


In the Shadow of your Personal God

by SillyBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in a Female Vessel, Consort Dean Winchester, F/M, Female Castiel, Genderswap, Godstiel: Cas as God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/pseuds/SillyBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being God isn’t all that difficult Castiel assumes. But being a public figure at the center of everybody’s interest is quite a hassle for someone who isn’t exactly proficient in being human. Of all the weird situations Dean’s been into, suddenly being God’s Consort probably tops them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shadow of your Personal God

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN Dean/Cas kinkmeme when they had the theme “genderbender” (my favorite!) The original prompt was generally for Castiel declaring herself God publicly and then making Dean her Consort. I tried to include as many of the other things the prompt mentioned.

Television and radio, sounds and images projected all over the world. Bundled information and knowledge - with an equal portion of nonsense and irritating white-noise - spread all over the world reaching the homes of people. Yes, Castiel did think television and radio were rather fancy inventions.

In ages past it would have sufficed to visit a human in their dreams, to make a candle flicker, to cast a meaningful shadow or to whisper in the wind in order to alert them to a divine presence. It has gotten irritatingly more difficult to catch a single human’s straying attention. Sometimes you needed a shooting star, or a couple of plagues that would put Hell to shame in their creative execution to get your point across to _one single person_ that Heaven was being serious. And there were billions of them now, billions Castiel was very intent on reaching and preferably as many of the lot as possible through one session of audio-visual input. Of course, the human mind, simple as its structure was, was receptive to repetition as a means to stress importance, but to be perfectly honest, there were better things to do than spell it out for all of them. One big show, like a stone thrown into water and then She’d watch the ripples of the information spreading through the many channels in bigger and bigger waves. The message was clear.

_She is here._

_And She is going to stay._  
-o-

Dean had tried to avoid all channels of information to an extent that Sam had taken to calling him a modern caveman. And maybe it was true; he sat in his Impala, drinking beer and listening to the same old songs over and over again. Turned the same pictures and same words over in his head time and time again. Cas betraying him with Crowley, Cas’ face when he turned her away, Cas juiced up on monster soul power, Cas snipping Raphael out of existence, Cas’ face when she looked at them again.

Cas, proclaiming herself their new God.

Cas asking them to love and to obey.

Cas’ face when he attempted to forced himself down on his knees.

And now he was here, a caveman of his own making because he did not want to hear what she was going to turn this world into. He didn’t want to hear about Tsunamis eating away at the substance of the earth or tornados plucking out trees like blades of grass. He didn’t want to hear about slaughtered people, of outbreaks of some strange sickness, of God giving her come-back tour of apocalyptic proportions.

Because he had refused to bow down and profess his love.

“Dude, you can’t sit in there all day!” Dean gave a violent start, trashing his hands and hitting them on the Impala’s steering wheel in the process. Sam was bending over, one hand on the roof of the car, the other balled to a fist, knuckles against the cool glass of the window. His expression was a mix of indulgent patience and amusement. “Seriously, Dean? It’s time to return to human civilization.” Dean glared up at him, but made no movement to get out of the sanctuary of his car, stubbornly taking hold of the wheel. The Impala had not left Bobby’s scrap yard in two weeks, motor only turned on to listen to his music.

“What? No! I like this city of steel and piled up cars. Enough civilization for me, Sammy.” Sam slightly dropped his head at that, the breath passing his lips more like a suppressed laugh. He shook his head while raising it again to study his brother.

“Dean. You don’t even come inside to pee anymore. Bobby and me. We’ve put up with your ridiculous behavior for almost two weeks.” Sensible, bordering on gentle guilt-tripping. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Shut up Samantha,” he growled in irritation, but he reached for the door and got out. Stretching his legs was far from agreeable and he snorted when trying to stretch properly. Sam wrinkled his nose when Dean took a step towards him.

“God! Dean, when have you last showered?!” Sam blinked when his insult got Dean to narrow his eyes at him with a wild expression on his face. He bit his lip in realization of his mistake even before Dean could put it into words.

“Don’t. Say. _That_.” The _you never know who’s listening_ went unsaid but was still understood. Sam shifted on his feet uncomfortably, but he shut his mouth in a silent apology and carefully patted Dean’s shoulder. “Ack, go away!” Dean snorted, swatting his brother’s hand away and Sam dared a small smile. Dean scratched his head, exhaling loudly through his nose. “So.” He started walking towards Bobby’s house and Sam followed a few steps behind.

“So?” Sam repeated as Dean pushed the door open and took a wary look around. There was a low buzz of sound in Bobby’s house; the TV was on, but as with the radio its volume was turned down. The laptop was open on the table in the kitchen, next to a heap of newspapers. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “You spent two weeks away from any potential source of information. You mean to finally return to the present?” Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother in apparent irritation. Sam breathed in and closed his eyes, raising his hands. “Look, Dean.”

“Argh. Don’t even think about starting on that!” Dean hissed in annoyance and turned away towards the stairs. “If you have nothing _useful_ to say then I’m gonna shower.” Sam was pinching the bridge of his nose, when Dean turned for the answer, but he nodded.

“Okay…”

“Okay.”

-o-

“You want to… What? _Go public_?” Crowley was swirling wine around his glass nervously, staring at the looming presence in the doorframe. Castiel nodded, a slow downward movement of her head, eyes still focused on the demon in front of her. He really was completely taken aback but he pressed his lips together, then he shrugged with all the ease he could muster. “Well, Sweetie. Why come to me then? Do you want the full deal? All pieces up on the chessboard? Because that’s going to be phenomenal. You’re going to blow the minds of all these pitiful humans.” Castiel still was not above giving him a mildly annoyed look at his mocking tone. But she was too used to it to pass judgment on him right there and then. He was still useful. Somehow.

“No, you ass. I just want to alert the humans to my presence. But I reckon there are… certain ways to go about it to maximize efficiency,” she said dryly, putting effort into the correct choice of her words. Crowley didn’t even attempt to hide that he was somewhat intrigued (which didn’t only stem from the fact that he hadn’t been reduced to an unsightly stain on the carpet yet.)

“And what have you got in mind, darling?” Crowley really couldn’t contain his surprise when Castiel, humanity’s new God for hell’s sake, was sheepishly pulling at the fabric of her coat.

“I think I need to find a more awe inspiring wardrobe.”

“Oh,” Crowley mouthed and when he couldn’t find the right answer for a few moments, gulped back the rest of his wine. “Well then-“

“But the coat stays.” The king of Hell groaned.

-o-

So, God’s come-back tour didn’t exactly have apocalyptic proportions as Dean had feared. But there were still enough inexplicable things happening all around the world that people seemed to catch on to the fact that something was going on. Quite a number of people (some of whom the general population considered to be corrupt) turned up dead. A variety of buildings, companies and headquarters of religious institutions crumbled (Dean did find that funny to some extent). A number of previously unknown religious texts about angels (go figure) turned up.  Trees burned in cold fire, attracting stray sheep, oil fields suddenly ran dry, people were healed of illness and so on. It was all rather tame, a mix of good and probably bad things happening. The hunter community was, while generally on edge, not greatly concerned and there was no general outcry amongst humanity.

Until suddenly all lines went dead and a dark, absolute silence settled in.

Dean cursed and jumped up from his chair and he could hear Bobby and Sam somewhere in the house having similar reactions. The lights had suddenly been blown out and even though enough light should come in through the windows it was almost pitch black.

“Dean!” Sam called with a strained voice and Dean heard his brother crashing things in the hallway.

“I’m alright!” he replied and soon all of them were standing in Bobby’s kitchen, the old hunter holding a steadily glowing flash light. Dean looked out of the window while Bobby checked the phones and Sam TV and internet.

“Well… If it’s any comfort, the fridge still works,” Bobby muttered and fumbled with the oven, “and the gas is also running…”

“All the lines are dead though… No phone, no internet, no radio and no TV.” Dean frowned out of the window, staring at the sky. It was pitch-black, with heavy clouds blocking the sun. This didn’t seem to be a sudden eclipse and they had no chance to find out how far this phenomenon extended when they couldn’t even contact other people.

“You think… Cas-“ Sam started but Dean cut him off with a hiss. It was an oddly loud sound in the sudden silence of the kitchen. The fridge buzzed a bit, but radio and TV had been such a steady background noise that it was even more apparent that now everything was silent.

“Why would she do that?” he asked and he more guessed than saw that Sam shrugged.

“Maybe cut us off from all distractions? So we have to focus on her? I don’t exactly know what God does when She wants to get our attention. At least it’s not a flood,” Bobby said gruffly. Dean wiped his face, feeling suddenly exhausted. He didn’t even want to find out if this was the start of something big, dramatic and world-shattering. “We can’t do anything but wait for Her to make a move. It’s been rather quiet… maybe it’ll stay that way. Maybe this is not even related. When Heaven moves, maybe Hell is pulled along.” Dean lowered his head, fingers reaching up to rub his eyes.

“I hope not…” The tense silence between the three men didn’t last long, because with no warning whatsoever a high pitched noise shot through the silence. One Dean immediately recognized with the greatest of alarm. But before he could shout out a warning, it stopped and the TV, computer and radio burst into life, static noise and the flickering light was filling the room and Sam rushed to the laptop.

“Woah!” he shouted and when Dean turned he could see his brother holding his hands away from the keyboard, staring into the computer.

“Sammy! What’s going on?” he asked, watching his brother’s surprised expression illuminated by the glow from the screen.

“I… I don’t know. But it seems like a video starting,” he said, confusion on his voice and he turned the laptop around. Dean could see the black sky, the clouds moving fast and illuminated by what seemed to be city light even though he couldn’t see any buildings.

“Same thing’s on here,” Bobby called from the living room, where the TV had flickered back to life as well. Dumb-struck, Dean wandered over to the radio and turned up the volume very carefully, afraid to hear Castiel speak again, but all that greeted him was the loud noise of wind and the backdrop of a city mixed with the static of the radio channel. Keeping his palm pressed to his mouth, Dean walked into the living room, staring at the screen. Bobby tried to switch it off and, when that changed nothing, to pull out the plug, but the picture stayed with them, as did the faint sound.

“What… What exactly is this supposed to be?” Dean finally asked, motioning with both hands towards the TV screen.

“Beats me…,” Bobby murmured, but then the picture changed. A light burst through the clouds, intense and golden and whoever was responsible for their visuals was following it. And now Dean could place where they were. The White House was in the background.

“Really? Of all the places she could have chosen, she chose this one?” Dean exclaimed in irritation and surprise. “What about the Vatican or Jerusalem or whatever?! Why the fucking White House?!” Nobody dignified him with an answer as the beam grew brighter and Dean thought he’d go blind by looking at it even through the screen.

“Woah! Guys!” Sam shouted and Dean realized that he had joined him in the living room. Dean cracked his eyes open and there was the White House, a number of people gathered in front of the fence and not only tourists taken by surprise by the sudden darkness. Bodyguards, staff, even the President and his family, all staring around, utterly confused and – as far as Dean could tell – quite a bit blinded by the light if their blinking and squinting and eye-rubbing was any indication. The sound accompanying the video picked up and next to the almost distant cries of the people and the wind they could also hear a closer chuckling noise, possibly coming from the person holding the camera – or whatever device was used for this terrific broadcast.

_“Rejoice.”_

The voice was clear, calm and soothing and accompanied not by static or high pitched ringing noise Dean knew, but by something like bells chiming. Figures.

The video changed and more pillars of light pierced through the dark clouds. And one illuminated a big patch of the lawn behind the fence. The ray of light actually took on vague human forms, limbs, thin and graceful, rose from the intense ray and in the arc one arm made to rise upwards, a spray of glittering light rained down on the earth. There was a human figure, one of a woman with long hair - transparent strings of light and golden glittering smoke - and bright spots of shining white as eyes, emerging from the ray of light as it grew dimmer.

_“Many centuries have passed for you to be in darkness. Many centuries of dwindling faith and uncertainty.”_

Dean couldn’t help but stare. That woman, all 300 meters of her, was simply awe-inspiring. He knew humans couldn’t usually perceive an angel’s true form without having their eyes burned out, so he didn’t trust this to be the real thing. _But dammit!_

 _“It is time,”_ the voice continued _, “that you reopen your eyes and ears and your mind for my glory and the glory of my kingdom.”_

Suddenly Castiel - because it had to be her - lifted her golden foot, naked like the rest of her and slammed it down onto the roof of the White House, turning it into nothing but a pile of stones and expensive furniture. As if picked up by the wind and the dust exploding upwards, threads of light shot up as well, wings seeming to fill the entire sky and raining down more golden dust.

 _“No false kings, no false idols, no false God!”_ her voice thundered over the startled cries of the people gathered. White light kept piercing the clouds like shooting stars. And the scene exploded into white light.

“Holy shit!” Dean shouted, shielding his eyes, bumping into Sam while turning away from the TV.

_“I am your new God.”_

Dean tentatively blinked his eyes open. There, with Emil Novak’s trench coat fluttering in the wind and with the cloud of dust from the destroyed White House settling in the background, she stood. Her hair was well done, her fringe for once cut straight and combed, dark hair spilling in slight waves over her shoulders. She didn’t wear that cheap suit anymore, but something that looked high-end, expensive, and far too sexy even if it wasn’t low cut or particularly short.

 _“A new one.”_ Her voice carried over the settling silence, the camera zooming in further to focus on her bright blue eyes, the slightly pink lips. _“A better one.”_ She turned around slightly, looking at the remains of the house.

 _“I will punish those that have done wrong. And I will reward those deserving.”_ With a simple wave of her hand the house was restored to its former glory. Her hands still raised slightly she turned back to look at whoever was filming her and Dean felt naked under that blue stare. He had no reason to doubt that she could see him right through the screen.

 _“I know that you humans need someone to lead and guide you. And I will be here. Always.”_ She smiled, that same self-assured, powerful smile that Dean had been so afraid of when she had first declared herself God.

 _“I will not abandon you.”_ Lightning burst from the dark clouds yet again as her face darkened. _“I will not be abandoned.”_ Dean felt something clench painfully in his chest and for a moment he felt as if he would suffocate, but the feelings passed when Castiel’s small smile returned.

_“From this day on, I will walk the Earth again. I expect you to obey my laws and I expect you to love me. If you do not, then I will make sure that you fear me.”_

Castiel closed her eyes and then she was gone. The TV switched off, the light switched back on and the dark clouds disappeared without a trace. Silence reigned in Bobby’s living room, long after the image had disappeared. Finally, Sam – who had dragged himself back to the computer – made a noise.

“Well, the internet is all over God’s reappearance now that it’s running again… The video’s up on youtube already, uploaded by a channel called _HeavenlyHostHymns_.”

“Cute,” Bobby snorted, then he huffed a sigh and shrugged. “Well. I guess we gotta carry on now. Doesn’t seem like God’s up to rip the planet apart.” Dean frowned and turned towards the older man.

“Really? You’re just going to do nothing?” he asked and Bobby raised an eyebrow at him. “We… Come on guys!”

“What do you want to do,” Sam asked with a sigh, “she’s God. I think that’s too big for us.”

“We’ve kicked the Devil back downstairs,” Dean reminded him, but Sam’s expression took the wind out of his sails.

“Starting a rebellion against God isn’t going to get us anywhere but into our graves. You know that boy,” Bobby told him and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “So we’re going to continue doing our usual thing. We assume God is not our enemy and focus on stuff we can actually take down.” Dean sighed in defeat and nodded.

Life would have to continue, even though it may be short, because he just knew that with God actually present, it was only a matter of time before he was hit by lightning.

-o-

Castiel, sitting in what might as well be classified as a throne with all its gold and precious stone ornaments, listened to the men in front of her continue shouting at each other or at her (she has ceased paying close attention some minutes ago, when the shouting had started) and wished she was elsewhere. They were in a conference room in the Vatican with the Pope himself having required an audience with her and a dozen other gentlemen. Politicians, religious leaders, influential men from all over the world, united in the heavily decorated room in order to fight over one issue or another. _Representative questions_ , the Pope had said in prayer. Castiel had assumed it would be about a fresco, she would have liked that.

“Listening to their worldly affairs is always a chore,” the Pope said silently, sitting to her right and Castiel reached up to rub her forehead. Somehow the arguments had turned to which country should be allowed to call itself God’s chosen country, because apparently having God as their patron would boost the economy. “The church is above this childish squabbling.” Castiel lifted her hand and he nodded demurely. The men had also fallen to silence, because even though their outrage was apparent on their faces, they didn’t want to risk anything. She was a little on the vengeful side, the internet said she was _old-school_ but that was apparently a good thing. At least on the internet, the men in front of her must not be on the internet much.

“I don’t understand. Why are you so agitated over my form?” she asked, tilting her head to the side a bit. This seemed to be the main concern of the audience after all.

“Heavenly Father,” one of the men started, wiping a handkerchief over his glistening bald head. “we implore you to change your physical appearance!” Castiel looked down at herself. The Vatican had pressed her to wear rather elaborate garments; a white dress made of silk with intricate patterns and pearls around the modest collar, complete with a slim golden sash bound around her middle and a long, blue robe with golden embroidery that covered her shoulders and arms and pooled around her body in the throne. She had preferred what Crowley had dressed her in, something black and apparently “chic”.

“Why?”

“Because you’re,” the man laughed breathlessly and wiped his neck, “a _woman_! I’m sure the Vatican agrees that a male image would be more… appropriate?” The Pope remained silent but nodded slowly after a while and Castiel wrinkled her brow.

“Why?”

“Because, Lord, it is men that govern the states. Humbly, of course, in your name. It is natural to have a man at the top, it always has been that way. And you are the very top…?”

“I do not care for your feeble attempts to hang on to male supremacy. Your own time has outdone you,” Castiel stated, her voice a bit curious. Certainly they knew that.

“Father-“ this time it was the Pope and this time Castiel stood up, hushing all conversations yet again.

“I am not your Father, but I see that you are all children in the need of guidance. And I will guide you. If it eases your mind to have a term that represents familial bonds, you may address me as Mother.” The men burst out into new argument and Castiel just stared down at them in bewilderment. With a flap of her wings she was gone, before they could bother her more.

-o-

Crowley snickered in amusement as Castiel let the many bags drop onto the floor, any sound muffled by the expensive carpet. He was quite happy with the castle he’d chosen for their earthly head-quarters.

“Honey, why the face?” he asked and Castiel pulled the trench coat, that had partly slipped from her shoulder, back up.

“You know how the internet said that I should be closer to people because it would help them connect to me?” Crowley laughed, but nodded, then he eyed the bags.

“So you thought instead of going shopping with me, you’d pop into H&M for some girl – God bonding? See what the young ones fancied?” Castiel huffed at his scoffing tone and kneeled down to pull a turquoise dress out of the many bags that made Crowley wince in almost physical pain. Castiel put the dress back down on the floor, rummaging through the bags until she found another dress that looked like it had been pulled out of the 50ies. Apparently finding no problem with that, Castiel undressed and put the dress over her head, adjusting the collar.

“It didn’t quite go as planned… I couldn’t actually shop properly, or talk to anyone. But apparently I now have free access to all H&M stores and they want me to have a “blessed by God” collection.”

“And you don’t even have any fashion sense,” Crowley muttered, thinking about how all the girls next summer would wear the random things God had pulled from the shelves. It was hilarious. In a bad way.

“Now, now, sweetheart,” he said, standing up from his leather sofa and walked over to her. He brushed her hair out of the way and pulled the zipper back down, stripping her again. “You want to make a good impression on your new and young believers? Listen to your friendly demon when it comes to fashion. After all, if you really want to go down that path and be an icon, then you need me.” Castiel glared at him, but didn’t contradict him. He leered up at her. “And we’re going to show them God’s sex-appeal.”

-o-

Dean disliked going to town in these days of religious re-awakening. He saw Castiel looking down at him from billboards, dressed in expensive clothes of all kinds of fashion labels. _God had class_ , at least that seemed to be the general consensus among people. He couldn’t help himself waiting for her making an appearance for _Victoria’s Secret_ , but knowing Castiel, she’d probably throw a fit like she did when he had wanted to get her laid. Jesus Christ, that seemed like an eternity ago. That had been a whole different Castiel back then… When he allowed himself to, he wallowed in a bit of self-pity. Once, _God_ had been his best-friend and now…? Completely out of his league. But better just a random guy that didn’t say his prayers at night than being hit by Castiel’s heavenly wrath. Actually, he had expected a whole lot of wrath from her, but her attention was elsewhere (smiting people, reducing global warming, campaigning for animal shelters, recording short clips for _HeavenlyHostHymns_ ). As if she didn’t even care about him anymore.

Sam had subscribed to _Angel of the Lord_ , some kind of glossy magazine complete with internet blog that served as official source for news and the word of God.

“Dude, are you fangirling _God_?” Dean asked crossly when Sam looked at him guiltily, trying in vain to hide the poster he had unrolled. “Seriously? You’re not hanging that up on the fridge, I warn you! This is Cas, man!” He sounded desperate even to his ears. He wanted it to be true, he wanted God to be Cas, the good old Cas, not Castiel, not God…! And Sam was not helping.

“Look, Dean… We’ve been over this. There’s nothing we can do about Castiel. She’s a public figure now and it doesn’t look like she’s going to blow us all up any time. Has is maybe crossed your mind that this is actually… good?” he asked carefully and Dean glared at his brother with all the venom he could muster.

“Good?! Dammit Sammy! Maybe she’s not mass-murdering anybody now, but come on, have you already forgotten all about Purgatory? The souls? Each and every warning we’ve heard?” Sam shook his head, no, of course he had not forgotten, but he certainly was not going to step on a landmine out of his own will. “And _this,_ “ Dean continued, gesturing towards the laptop, the poster, “this is ridiculous! What kind of God becomes a cheap public figure for mass media to drool over?” he argued and let himself drop in the chair at the table, the old wood creaking under the strain. He grabbed at the journal and glared at the front. It was white and expensive looking with all of the letters printed in gold. There was just a Renaissance drawing of angels on the cover, nothing special and he leafed through it. He was very aware that Sam was watching him, but after a while he resumed browsing the blog or whatever he was doing. There weren’t many useful information inside, mostly rules people were asked to obey, but Castiel wasn’t very imaginative and generally just put whatever she and the Host found fitting. There were sections with prayers and a guideline how to ask God and the Host for help and what was important to get into Heaven and some menacing words on Hell. He found the magazine rather boring, but then he stumbled over a page with Castiel’s picture on it. It was taken in that park Dean remembered all too well, where they’d been sitting on the benches, discussing. Castiel on the picture was sitting with her legs slightly apart and the arms on her thighs, hands folded. She wore the trench coat and looked every bit the angel Dean knew.

“This place means a lot to me. I have learned a very important lesson here,” it read and Dean missed her. God, how he missed her.

-o-

Sam and Dean were moving around again. Hunting, because that was the only thing they knew to do. But it was slow paced, the cases rarer to find and Dean wasn’t even that surprised when Sam suggested that he’d like to try finish university one day. So they made their home-base close to Stanford when he’d been accepted back (he had Bobby cheat a bit for him so it was a rather easy and smooth return) and Dean wondered what to do with his time. How to be still angry at God if Sam and Bobby felt relieved that the world seemed, for once, not to be ending.

“If you’re so worried,” Sam started over their dinner one evening about four months after Castiel had become God, “then how about we ask Chuck for information?”

“Chuck? I thought the guy had disappeared?” Dean asked suspiciously, attacking the salad next to his Spaghetti with his fork.

“Dude, eat your salad, don’t fight it!” Sam said with a snort and Dean put the fork into his mouth with a sulking expression. “No. And if you’d stop being a caveman for real this time and get on the internet, you’d know.”

“The internet is for nerds, all the important stuff’s in the news,” Dean answered flatly and saw Sam roll his eyes. “Okay…!” He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “What do the almighty nerds on the internet have to say?”

“Well, there are quite a few communities out there that-“

“Get to the point, man. Your excitement about blogs and things on the internet gives me second-hand embarrassment!” Sam narrowed his eyes at him, shooting him a dirty look.

“The fans of Chuck’s books have been discussing rigorously ever since the last issue’s been published. And they’ve even created a huge database where they try to prove that what was written in the books is real. They do that by comparing news to what happened in the individual books. It’s not that difficult to figure it out… And you know how people get when they think they’re on to something.” Dean just shrugged and Sam continued, typing something on the ipad he kept next to his plate. “They’ve tried to figure out what’s happened after the books.” Dean groaned, tossing his fork onto his plate.

“That’s just – what’s the name? Fanfiction. Just fanfiction Sammy.” He put his hands flat on the table, glaring at his brother. “Don’t tell me you’ve read all that stuff in the name of research or some other dumb excuse?”

“Seriously?” Sam asked in a flat, annoyed tone. “And it’s not just fanfiction. Sure, I stumbled across one or the other funny thing on my way through. And I’m certain you’d read that one story where Cas and Lisa-“

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Sam!” Dean shouted, equally appalled and intrigued by that thought. Mostly appalled though, that was certainly the appropriate reaction. Sam laughed heartily at that and even Dean had to crack a smile. “Okay. You had your fun. Get to the point.” Sam coughed to clear his throat and nodded, still grinning.

“Okay. They’ve been discussing the appearance of God and they think it stands in close connection with the Supernatural books. And when I worked through the pages upon pages of discussion I’ve actually come to the conclusion that they’re pretty sure that God is Castiel. And they’ve manage to recreate a part of what we’ve been up to. Nothing about purgatory, so they haven’t uncovered useful information that we have missed. Anyway, all they had were always only speculations, until…”

“Until?” Dean asked and walked to the fridge, pulling out a beer and a soda (because apparently it was one of God’s commandments to limit alcohol intake, strange if you consider that God drank an entire liquor store once).

“Until Samlicker81, a BNF of the Supernatural fandom, joined into the discussion.” At Dean’s stare he felt compelled to add: “That’s Becky… And she’s something like a celebrity among the fans of Supernatural…” Dean just rolled his eyes at him, mouthing “hopeless nerd” and drinking his beer. “Anyway. Becky’s post got a massive response and I became aware of it. Apparently she knew some bits and pieces of what had happened and I wrote her a message. She sent me some cryptic stuff hidden in a fanfiction named _Sammy’s Ode to Dean’s lips_. Pretty interesting because I didn’t know there were that many words to describe lips in the first place.” Dean shuddered in an over-dramatic manner, but he knew there was a point to Sam’s story, so he postponed walking out to get drunk until he had heard the important bit.

“I know I’m irresistible, now go on.”

“Yeah. She seems to still have conversations over Skype with him from time to time. And I got his number. So if you want to call him about God, then go on.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, taking the number Sam had scribbled on a scrap piece of paper. “Maybe a prophet knows what to do.”

-o-

Dean had to wait a minute of ringing before Chuck finally picked up his phone.

_“Dean?”_

“Yeah! Chuck, man! We thought you had fallen off the earth! Why didn’t you call?” Dean threw himself onto the couch, trying to get comfortable. He never seemed to be able to get comfortable these days.

_“Uhm. Sorry, man. Busy with life, you know? I figured you didn’t need me and I didn’t mind not being dragged into near-death situations…”_

“Just… Yeah. Okay,” Dean agreed because there was no arguing with that. Chuck had never been in immediate danger with an archangel guarding his back, but he’d seen enough disgusting things to keep him glued to the alcohol bottles for weeks. “Sorry for only calling when we’re in trouble,” he said. Chuck didn’t reply for a while and Dean passed a few tense seconds fearing that Chuck would just slam down the phone and never talk to either Winchester again, but after a while he heard the other man sigh deeply. “Did you actually see anything about what happened?”

 _“Yes,”_ was Chuck’s answer and it was vague enough that Dean knew he wouldn’t want to talk too much about it. Well, he knew what had happened anyway and maybe, if they were unfortunate enough, they’d be able to read it in book version sooner or later. _“And I guess you’re calling because of Cas?”_

“Yeah… I… I thought you might have something for me… You’re a prophet after all...” Dean opened the magazine lying on the coffee table and searched for the page with Castiel on the park bench. For some reason it really soothed him.

 _“Dean… Why do you think Cas being God is such a bad thing?”_ Chuck wondered and Dean had to frown, surprised by Chuck’s question.

“Why? Because she gulped down the entire content of Purgatory! She’s a nuclear reactor waiting to go Chernobyl on us!” Dean argued, sitting up straight and slamming his fist into one of the decorative pillows on the couch.

 _“I have it on good authority that that’s not the case,”_ Chuck replied and the soft tone of his voice managed to calm Dean instantly. _“Do you really think that Cas would have been able to declare herself God or even just withstand the incredible force of Purgatory’s souls if someone wouldn’t have decided to indulge her?”_

“So you’re saying,” Dean started, “that God’s actually on board with her taking charge?”

 _“That’s what I’m saying, yes.”_ All the tension left Dean for a moment and he slumped back onto the couch, feeling completely boneless for a moment. _“The thing with Purgatory might have not her best idea, but you’ve also made your fair share of bad decisions… Don’t fight Cas. If you want to talk to her, just do. You know how to reach her.”_ And Chuck hung up on him. Dean stared at his mobile phone for a few seconds, then he tossed it on the couch and stared at the picture in the magazine instead.

-o-

Castiel was leaning against the window frame, staring out at the night-sky.

“Why so sad, _Mom?_ ” Castiel didn’t even turn around at the voice, but she looked at the reflection she saw in the window with a displeased frown.

“You’re supposed to be in Heaven, Gabriel, you have your tasks,” she replied flatly and turned around when Gabriel laughed and clicked his tongue. He was standing at her desk and looked through the many papers strewn all about it.

“Oh wow, they want to sue you for two centuries worth of natural catastrophes?” Gabriel wondered, ignoring Castiel for the time being. “Oh, cool. That landslide was my doing, those were fun times. Good to know you’re cleaning up my mess, Mom.” Castiel shot him a warning glare, but Gabriel wasn’t impressed.

“I don’t understand humans, Gabriel. Now that they have a way to actually talk to me, all they do is complain and whine to me about fixing their problems and being unjust,” she said with a sigh, pushing herself away from the window frame to stand next to Gabriel, studying the desk littered with letters. Gabriel grinned and with a snap of his fingers the desk was empty.

“You should be used to that by now. Haven’t the Winchesters taken advantage of you in exact the same way? They only call when they need you to fix their mess. Humans are weak and unreasonable. They are indeed children unwilling to take responsibility for their actions and unwilling to understand that some unfair things happen and nobody can be blamed.” Upon seeing Castiel’s crest-fallen expression, Gabriel put one hand on her upper arm and squeezed. “You signed up for this, Cas… And if Dad didn’t think you’d be able to pull it off then you wouldn’t be here… But you can’t do this alone.” Castiel looked at the archangel, her brow creased.

“That’s why I’ve brought you back. I’ve brought you and the others back so that you would help me with Heaven…” Gabriel grinned and patted Castiel’s shoulder affectionately, but then he took a step back.

“But I’m mainly earthbound. I like it here. And this is not the kind of help that I’ve been thinking about. What you need is someone here on earth, someone with charisma and leadership qualities, to assist you,” he told her and when she opened her mouth to answer he cringed. “Don’t even say it. I know about you and Crowley, but I’m not talking about PR stuff. I’m talking about doing the right thing and coming off clean. More or less.” Castiel studied her brother’s face, but then she nodded, which was all the encouragement Gabriel needed.

-o-

Dean was shocked out of his mind when Castiel turned up on his doorstep wearing jeans, a blouse and a boyfriend jacket, a sheepish expression on her face. And because he could only make incoherent sounds, she lifted her eyebrows and finally Dean noticed that her face was exceptionally… expressive.

“Jamie…?”

“Yes, it’s me…,” she said and craned her neck a bit, looking up at him from underneath her lashes, “sorry… but can I come in for a second?” As if he’d got electrocuted Dean sprang to the side, letting her into his and Sam’s place.

“Uh… Uhm, sorry… I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Dean said, squeezing past her, almost stumbling over boots and stuff he’d forgotten to recycle. Jamie was looking around with timid curiosity. Dean realized that he had expected to never see her again. It made his knees give out and he almost missed the couch when he sat down.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’m sorry for appearing out of the blue like that, but I needed someone to talk to and I didn’t want to bother my husband… It’s already crazy enough…” Dean couldn’t agree more. Jamie sat down next to him and Dean was surprised how relaxed she seemed, but maybe he was just fooled because Castiel had always been so stiff.

“Sure, don’t worry. I’m happy to see that you’re out of the deal,” he said, but then he wrinkled his brow and squinted at her, “you are out, aren’t you?” Jamie laughed at that, a quiet sound that appeared to be mixed with a deep sigh.

“Yes… I suddenly woke up in my bed. Emil and Claire were as surprised as I was… But truth to be told, I am not complaining. I’ve seen enough to last me an eternity… I’m just glad to have my body and life back…”

“Yeah,” Dean mused and patted her thigh, which she answered with a small, hopeful smile.

“It’s of course funny to know that my body’s been host to a deity for a few months,” she said and Dean widened his eyes before he could laugh. Because Castiel’s face was well-known and this had to have consequences for Jamie. “Ah. I know what you’re thinking,” Jamie told him, when she noticed his expression. “And it’s fine. I don’t know why but nobody seems to recognize me…”

“Wow,” Dean said after a while, raising his eyebrows, “well… That’s good.” Jamie managed to nod and then they fell into silence, but it was not uncomfortable.

“Do you have a beer?” Jamie asked after a while and Dean got right up to his feet.

“Hell, yes!”

-o-

Dean and Jamie nearly jumped when the door was thrown open, banging against the wall and then back into place loudly.

“Dean!” Sam shouted breathlessly from the corridor and Dean heard him falter, probably noticing the ballerinas neatly placed next to Sam’s shoes. He appeared in the living room, looking like he had run a marathon.

“What’s the matter?” Dean asked in alarm, but Sam just shook his head and motioned towards the TV.

“Hi, Jamie I guess,” Sam said and reached over Dean’s head to fold her in a quick hug. Dean just mouthed a silent, bewildered _okaaaay_ at Sam’s lack of surprise.

“Good to see you again, Sam,” she replied with a smile and Sam seemed a bit fidgety around her, but their attention turned to the TV when Dean switched it on.

The News were on, showing pictures of God sitting on the roof of Buckingham Palace, legs crossed gracefully and hordes of tourists pointing at her and taking pictures. She wasn’t doing anything, just looking at the sky while she glowed and her cloudy fairy dust hair floated around her head like a halo.

“Why does she always pick tourist places?!” Dean groaned while the news reporter let the audience know that apparently God had not yet done anything, that the Queen was elsewhere and that the people inside had not yet been teleported outside, hinting at the fact that she wasn’t planning on reducing the place to rubble as a strike against representative monarchy or some other shit.

“Why? Because those are the places people recognize at once… But what is she doing?” Jamie wondered, nervously biting her lips. Then she jumped when her mobile phone vibrated in her pocket and she slipped off the couch to answer it.

“Ems? Yes, I’m fine. I’m at the Winchesters’…,” the rest of the conversation was lost because she went to the kitchen to talk, which left Dean and Sam staring at the TV.

“Maybe… She’s just making a point that she’s still here?” Sam suggested which earned him a shrug. Finally, Castiel moved, getting up from the roof, her form folding in on itself getting smaller and smaller until the familiar form of Jamie Novak was standing on the balcony were the Royal family tended to wave down at the masses.

“Oh…,” the real Jamie said meekly from behind the couch, “she could at least get rid of the trench coat, it makes me look fat. And creepy.”

“You okay…? Angels can get new bodies, but apparently she was fond of yours,” Sam asked empathically, patting Jamie’s shoulders and she sighed, but nodded.

 _“I have come here,”_ the voice suddenly boomed and the picture focused in on Castiel. Underneath the trench coat she wore a white lacey dress that made her look uncannily innocent. Her face was fresh and clear, hair slightly tousled from the wind, but she was just so beautiful.

“You’re such a _babe_ , Jamie…,” Dean whispered with a grin directed at the screen and Jamie rolled her eyes at him.

 _“To speak to you of Heaven’s will,”_ Castiel continued. _“I have been on earth, unseen, for thousands of years. I have seen humanity rise from nothingness, I have seen them create and destroy. I have walked the earth in a human vessel for years, living at the edges of your society and I’ve seen many things… Things which you probably know nothing of and I do not have the intention to amend your ignorance.”_ She was silent for a few seconds and even though there were so many people crowded in front of Buckingham Palace, it was hushed. _“I am no human and there are things I do not understand about you. I am not here to indulge you or to come to your aid all of the time. You must live your own lives. You are children and I love you and will take care of you. But I cannot always be here, because Heaven needs me too.”_

“God is a working girl,” Dean snorted and Sam hit the back of his head while Jamie hushed him.

 _“Listen to the name of Him, who will henceforth be my Consort_ ,” Castiel spoke loudly and Dean could see the flickering shadows of her wings thrown over the palace’s wall. _“DEAN.”_

Dean didn’t even get the time to be shocked, because one second he stared at the screen, the next into Gabriel’s smirking face, then at the palm of his hand as it reached for his forehead.

“Congratulations!”

And then the world went upside down.

-o-

Fortunately Dean didn’t wake up sprawled out on the balcony of Buckingham Palace with a million cameras focused on him. He was sitting in a bright room, on a comfortably worn couch, with a view of green meadows stretching towards the horizon. Against his will, Dean found himself relaxing.

“Hello Dean.” Dean cursed, jumping up from the couch at once. Castiel was standing right next to him, gazing at him with that familiar expression. “My apologies. I did not mean to startle you.”

“Shit!” Dean hissed, rubbing his palms over his eyes, taking one cautious step backwards. “Not startle me?! “

“You are upset,” Castiel stated in a gentle tone that held a splinter of confusion in it as if she couldn’t understand what he was upset about. “I assumed that you might require a gentler approach, but Gabriel insisted that this would be for the best.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?!” He vaguely remembered her saying something about a _consort_ , but he had been too shocked to hear her say his name.  A part of his mind told him that there were probably millions of Deans out there, but he still thought he was the only one that she’d call with that tone in her voice. Castiel sighed slightly and she seemed regretful as she studied him. Dean had to avert his eyes because her soul-searching gaze seemed even more intense now. He couldn’t help but feel the immense power Castiel radiated and that vibrated inside of him like a second heartbeat. He recalled Chuck’s words and the reality of the fact that the angel had actually ascended to become a goddess shook him. Castiel, if she knew of his thoughts, didn’t react to them and instead chose to explain herself.

“You humans confuse me… I don’t exactly require help, but I do require… agreeable companionship and advice,” she said silently and Dean stared down at her. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times futilely, trying to find something to say. After a while he drew in a deep breath, opening his arms a bit.

“Why didn’t you just ask,” he managed to say, hoping to sound at least a bit irritated and brash, but that was probably not the case. And even if, Cas had never cared much about him trying to be intimidating. Why would God care about him barking at Her?

“Because,” she said, taking a step and suddenly she was all in his space, staring at him with blue eyes and Dean could see the color shift and glimmer, “God does not ask for help.” Dean only resumed breathing when she drew back slightly to muster him.

“O-Okay, fair enough,” Dean said and now that he could breathe properly again he couldn’t help chuckling nervously, “but we haven’t heard from you for months. I thought you’d smite me because I haven’t… you know…”

“I _know_ ,” Castiel replied flatly, “but I hoped that you would have failed to do so because you were too proud to see that for once you were not right. And not for lack of love.” Dean frowned at that, but didn’t argue. Castiel sighed deeply, shaking her head. “I am not going to destroy you. I forgive you, but I have not forgotten.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Dean said silently and she nodded gravely at him, “you’re… are you still Cas?”

“I am changed, but I am still Cas,” she agreed and Dean felt a flood of relief wash over him when she pulled her lips in a smile, timid and quickly gone again. “I don’t want you to fear me, I would wish that you respect me and in the future, listen to me when I want to confide in you.” Dean nodded, unsure what to reply, but Castiel didn’t need to hear anything.

“So… What’s happening next? What exactly am I supposed to do as your… your…”

“Consort.” Castiel provided and Dean had to sit down on the couch, rubbing his forehead.

“Wow. Sorry, I need a moment. I suppose I’m flattered that you picked me, but I’m also a bit freaked out. Are we going to marry or what?”

“Who else should I have picked, Dean? You are the human I care most about and even though we have had our differences in the past, we do share a strong bond. And as to your question, that is not exactly necessary seeing as I am God, but if you do think it’s the right thing to do…,” she trailed off and Dean was surprised to find an uncertain expression on her face. She pressed her lips together and looked down at him. Dean was alert at once.

“Dean?”

“Yes, Cas?”

“Do you even want to be by my side?” she asked and Dean widened his eyes.

“Cas… You’re family, Cas. Of course,” he told her, trying to keep his voice gentle and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“I was very lonely in the past year… I missed you and Sam and Bobby…,” she said and then her face became determined and Dean felt compelled to stand up, unsure what she was on about. “I would like a hug now.”

“What?” Dean spat out, utterly surprised, but Castiel was already lifting her arms and her face darkened as he didn’t approach her.

“Do _not_ deny me. I would like to express my affection towards you. Dean, hug me.” Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then he took the step towards her and wrapped his arms around her, feeling hers snake around his waist rather strongly. She settled her head against his shoulder and her warm breath tickled his neck, but as soon as her warmth engulfed him, it was already gone again and Cas stepped away, her hands still on his hips. She looked up at him with a small, tight-lipped smile and he felt a grin form on his face before he had the chance to control it. Before Cas could say anything, Dean puller her back into a hug, longer this time.

“I missed you too, Cas. I’m glad that you’re fine and I’m… _so_ glad that I was wrong about you. I’m sorry.” Castiel tensed in his arms, but then she relaxed and nodded, her hair tickling Dean’s chin. For the first time in what seemed forever, Dean felt truly at ease.

-o-

According to Sam the internet was all over Dean’s and God’s marriage and Dean had had a very confusing one-sided conversation with Becky about piracy or something (at least the conversation had included ships and wars). But in the end she had given her blessings.

“Dude, she just meant that the internet is exploding because you and Castiel are now an official couple and no longer just wishful thinking of a part of fandom Becky apparently doesn’t belong to,” Sam explained and Dean groaned, hitting his forehead with his palm. He hated the fact that the Supernatural books had become popular so quickly. He suspected that the books being on the _edifying literature_ recommendation list of _Angel of the Lord_ was partly responsible for the boom. In any case, even he had a hard time avoiding it and Dean was usually good at avoiding unsettling things.

“Sorry Sammy, seems like we have to break up. Don’t feel sad, you’ll always be my first and only true love” he mocked, kissing Sam on the cheek roughly and Sam laughed, kicking at his leg and wiping his cheek.

“Jerk!”

“Bitch,” Dean replied, feeling immensely satisfied when the word rolled off his tongue. The two laughed for a bit, but then Sam sobered up again.

“But Dean, what are you supposed to do now, as _consort_? Just stand next to her and look pretty when she gives interviews?” he wondered, just like the rest of the world following Cas’ public announcement. Dean shrugged.

“Beats me, man. If this is about dealing with political leaders and speeches then she picked the wrong Winchester.” Sam shook his head, smiling mildly.

“No, Dean. She picked the right one. Maybe you don’t always find the best words, but you make the right choices. Well, most of the time. Cas has always trusted you more than anybody else and she’s God now, I think she knows what she’s talking about.”

“I hope you’re right man,” Dean said, shaking his head, “I hope you’re right.”

-o-

Dean figured that being God’s Consort wasn’t nearly as difficult and tedious as he’d expected. Mostly he didn’t even have to go anywhere or do anything. Sure, being a human chosen by God left him open to scrutiny. Why him? What great deeds had he achieved in life? Was he to be a role model? When he didn’t feel like trying to come up with long-winded philosophical answers about the worth of your free will and decision making based on an inherent human knowledge about what’s right and what’s wrong, he just told them the facts: he’s the dude that’s got God’s back. They could read the rest in Chuck’s books. No need to make a sob story out of his life, at least not in front of the cameras.

He didn’t really have to try and polish his public image, Cas insisted that if he was honest and voiced his opinion directly like he did with her, then he’d be fine. And he was.

 To be perfectly honest, the public attention was irritating at times, but he knew how to avoid being spotted when he had to – this was not the first time his face had been broadcast all over America’s TV screens. People occasional bowed down before him, some magazines insisted on writing his name all in capital letters and there were TV documentations trying to grasp his divine Cinderella story.

He was still hunting whenever the need for action hit him like a sudden fever, but he no longer felt like chasing evil was an unbearable weight on his shoulders. Hell was mostly closed off and as one-way as it was supposed to be which reduced demonic activity immensely. But he still saw far more of Crowley than he wanted to. Even all his protests not to have him at their wedding had fallen on deaf ears. Once (and never again) he had followed Castiel on Crowley’s invitation and had been surprised how much Hell had changed. It was still awful though, mostly because his memories made it so and because he knew not all souls down here deserved their torment. Even though being Consort didn’t exactly give him any say on what God did away from the mortal plane, Castiel had still listened to him and negotiated with Crowley. The King of Hell agreed and Dean got to choose a handful of souls that received absolution and Castiel took them home to Heaven or gave them a reboot on Earth. Dean was pleased, but the taste of sulfur remained on his tongue for weeks afterwards.

Heaven on the other hand was mostly fixated on repairing the damage of Civil War and was thus blessedly silent most of the time. And he was not complaining as he really did not want those asses dicking around with him or Sammy anymore. But he found that when he met an angel on the street (which happened more often than you’d expect) or if one was visiting, they were nice and respectful. Well, apart from the ones he knew a bit better, like Balthazar or Gabriel. The archangel especially was being a pain in the ass and showed up on earth far more often than all his blubbering about baby-sitting duty in Heaven suggested. Dean thought that maybe he’d be able to wander around Heaven a bit, checking up on his parents and all the other people he missed. God refused because She wanted there to be things for Dean to look forwards to when his mortal life ended (which it would, Castiel assured him, just not as soon as he had always expected).

All Dean knew about Purgatory, and he didn’t care to know much, was that while it held the potential to be very dangerous, it was currently safe to ignore. Some chats with Chuck had revealed that God – the real deal – was actually using Cas as some kind of soul-cleaning-filter. She didn’t know (and Dean didn’t intent to tell her yet) but one by one the souls were leaving her – purged. The fact that she didn’t notice and that her powers did not diminish must have been a testament to how she had really climbed up the Heavenly job ladder. Even keeping a resurrected Raphael in check and scolding Michael and Lucifer down in the cage seemed to be no big deal (“but exhausting. They’re like infants!”)

And on Earth Dean still got to do whatever he wanted. Granted, he had to follow the news a bit closer to find out what was going on around the world. He didn’t want to appear like an ignorant idiot when someone actually did manage to lure him into an interview. Also, he had to be able to give Cas advise if she had plans to do anything on earth. Mostly Cas didn’t feel like intervening much in human affairs, especially on the political level. Her stunt with the White House had intimidated people enough to think twice about what they were doing. Cas’ main concern was humanitarian actions, environment care and morale. She got into an impressive foul mood whenever people pretended to speak for God while sprouting complete nonsense and it took quite an effort to talk her out of smiting them.

Generally speaking, Dean had a lot of time to figure out what to do apart from hunting and what exactly normal life (as normal as it could get) meant for him. He had to figure out hobbies and late job choices because his life was no longer bound to the Impala and America’s endless streets. He had a house now, a brother just a call away, a small but growing circle of friends, a manageable amount of responsibility and a wife. Oh, god, yes a wife.

 “Your forced marriage must have been a blow to you and Sam. How do you manage to continue your intimate relationship when your wife’s constantly looking over your shoulder?”

“Becky…,” Dean groaned at the girl sitting opposite him, laptop open to record his answers, “Can’t you ask normal questions?” Becky’s stern and concentrated expression remained and Dean knew that once she was focused then there’d be no reasoning with her.

“Dean, my community must know!” Dean rolled his eyes, tapping his finger on his knee. Dress pants and he wasn’t even pretending to be an FBI agent! How far he had fallen…

“Uh… You know, Sammy and I are still very close… We see each other all the time and Cas doesn’t mind… Is that good?” Becky looked at him with wide eyes and he flinched. “We… meet in the Impala?”

“Okay! I can work with that! The Impala as the intimate place of refuge when Heaven is breathing down your neck again!” The pressure and light in the room shifted slightly and Dean breathed a sigh of relief and turned around in his armchair.

“Hey honey!” he said and grinned up at Cas. She had been out with Crowley judging by how she was dressed and how her hair was made. “Don’t smite Becky, please.” Cas raised an eyebrow and looked at the two and at the table strewn with books, fanzines, artwork, Becky’s laptop and pie.

“Hi Cas! It’s nothing personal, but when it gets to pairings I’m immovable!” Becky said ardently and closed her laptop.

“That is fine, Becky. I am not jealous of the brothers’ bond,” Cas said and hung her trench coat over the back of the couch, then she walked through the adjacent dining room to the kitchen. “Adam will be here for dinner. Are you staying, Becky?”

“Will Sam be here?”

“I assume as-“

 _“Yes!”_ Castiel didn’t comment on Becky’s behavior as she apparently didn’t find it odd but Dean excused himself and walked over to the kitchen. He reached out his arms, embracing Cas from behind.

“Mrs. Winchester, how was your date?” he asked, kissing the bit of skin he saw over the dress’ high neck. “I hope Crowley wasn’t too charming.”

“We were simply negotiating,” she replied putting her glass back down on the working space, “or he was and I was indulging him to some extent.”

“You’re such a tease,” Dean snorted against her neck, then he let her go and turned her around to find her smirking at him. She walked away from him, checking the fridge, before walking out of the kitchen. Dean lifted his hands in confusion. “Honey? You were gone for a week, why aren’t we expressing our affections?”

“Dean is finding it exceedingly difficult to adjust to a life of domesticity. Tied down to the empty house by God and responsibility, he is forced to wait and long for affection,” Becky whispered to herself, “to fill the gaping hole torn by the separation from his brother.”

“Becky, no fanfiction where I can hear it,” Dean warned from the kitchen, pointing his finger through the open door at her warningly and Becky giggled, shrugging apologetically. “Jesus Christ…” Dean walked upstairs, finding Cas standing in their bed-room, taking off her jewelry. Even though she had noticed him, she didn’t stop or acknowledge him, so Dean leant against the wall next to the door and observed her. God and Consort. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester. Cas and Dean. It was rather strange how far they’d gotten in just two months. Cas was behaving more human again, trying to express emotions even though Dean was aware that she felt them differently and that for her it was not easy to put words to her sentiments. He didn’t mind because she did try and he didn’t exactly like the big words either. But he liked their domesticity, waking up together, having breakfast, writing shopping list, choosing furniture. He liked watching her, hugging her, being close to her. He liked kissing her too. He liked how warm she was and that he could feel her true self through her body, even if only just slightly. He loved the golden goddess with her fairy dust hair and liquid light skin even if it was merely a projection of what she truly was. Maybe she was still a million year old virgin, but Dean assumed that given time they’d get there too.

“Dean?” Cas spoke up and he noticed her looking at him. He smiled at her.

“I love you, Cas.” She blinked in surprise, her eyes wide, but then she smiled as well and he walked over to put a kiss on her lips.

“You better do, or I’ll have to spank you,” she warned teasingly and Dean snorted in amusement. “Don’t even say it, I can hear your thoughts.” Cas put her palm over Dean’s mouth and he nodded, her hands unable to muffle his laugh. “Get into something comfortable, we’re cooking.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he agreed, thinking about how strange it still was to do all these little things together with _God_. When on other days She’ll make people tremble in fear and goes window-shopping with the King of Hell when their busy schedules allow it.

“Oh, Dean. Remember that we’ll have to be in London to meet the Queen for tea on Friday.” Dean banged his head against the wardrobe. The one thing he hated about the damn God’s consort business were the fucking tea parties.

**FIN**

Eventually Dean and Cas will end up having sex, and eventually they’ll have a couple of kids that Crowley would love to have as demon ritual ingredients but that’s another story.


End file.
